


Family Doctors

by I May Age Regress (shnuffeluv)



Series: Gibbs' Family [52]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Chicken Soup, Family Fluff, Gen, Grumpy Jethro Gibbs, Non-Sexual Age Play, Sickfic, Vomiting, stomach flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 08:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11550954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/I%20May%20Age%20Regress
Summary: Gibbs takes the kids out to dinner, but comes down with the stomach flu. When his family comes home to help him, he is less than pleased...at first.





	Family Doctors

Gibbs dragged himself into his house and to his bathroom before his nausea became unbearable and he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He shuddered, flushed, stood. Turned to the mirror to make sure there wasn't anything on his face. He was a little paler than normal, and he felt like he had been run over by a truck. But it wasn't because of a suspect, or even any case at all. He had eaten something bad when he had treated the kids to dinner out last week, and had gotten stomach flu because of it. He had seen a story on the news about the restaurant causing several cases of the stomach flu, something about a sick cook, but had assumed that since he hadn't gotten _truly_  sick in a way that required behind-the-counter medicine in over a decade, he would be fine. Now, he just hoped his kids weren't going to meet his same fate.

Knowing he had to eat something, or at least have a glass of water to replenish his fluids, but feeling so sick he didn't know how he was standing, Gibbs decided he would rest a minute in the living room before getting something light to eat or drink. He shuffled out to the living room and collapsed onto the couch, coat still over his shoulders and shoes still tied on his feet.

One minute Gibbs was closing his eyes on the couch and the next someone was talking to him quietly as they untied his shoes. That's what it felt like, anyway. When Gibbs opened his eyes, he found the sun was setting, and he felt even weaker than before. Timmy was crouched in front of the couch, murmuring and setting all of his focus on Gibbs' shoelaces. Gibbs sighed into the couch. "Timmy...why are you here?"

Timmy looked up to Gibbs before turning back to the problem of the shoelaces. "You're sick."

"I know I'm sick," Gibbs growled. "I'm also contagious, which means you shouldn't be here!"

Timmy, for once, was unfazed by Gibbs' growling. "Papa is sick, and he's taken care of us when we're sick, so we're returning the favor. 'M not scared of a stomach bug I had over the weekend anyway."

"You got sick?" Gibbs asked. "You could have called. I could have helped."

"It wasn't this bad, Papa," Timmy said, smiling a bit. "Just felt like I was gonna be sick for a day. Never even actually threw up. You got it worse than me. Probably from _never_ getting sick. Weak immune system is what I think Uncle Ducky called it."

Gibbs snorted but otherwise made no effort to show his amusement. His arms and legs felt like they were lead and his head felt like helium, and he was _freezing_. Timmy managed to figure out the knot Gibbs used on his shoelaces and yanked off both shoes. "No shoes on the couch," he informed Gibbs seriously. "You hate dirt on the couch."

"I'm a bit busy to worry about it," Gibbs deadpanned.

Timmy rolled his eyes and lifted Gibbs to a sitting position on the couch and took off the man's coat. Gibbs tried to suppress a shiver. If he was freezing before, he was ice now. But he could see into the house this way, and caught movement from the kitchen. "Mm...you bring someone over with you?"

"Tony came too. We both wanted to help," Timmy said, taking Gibbs' coat to the closet. "Don't worry, one of us can be big when we make dinner."

"That's my job, Timmy," Gibbs said, standing up.

"When you're not sick," Timmy amended, pushing Gibbs back on the couch. "Right now it's our turn to help. 'Sides, dinner's probably just gonna be soup; it's all I could have when I got this flu."

Gibbs was torn between touched and fuming at this point. He appreciated the gesture, but he _hated_  being mollycoddled. "I do _not_  want special treatment here," Gibbs growled.

Timmy was unimpressed and not afraid to show it. "You're much scarier when your voice isn't going out and you can stand up without swaying like a drunk," he said, before turning to the kitchen. "Tony, what kind of food do we have?"

"Uh...four cans of chicken noodle soup, instant ramen noodles for one, and a loaf of bread," Tony called. "No steak, surprisingly."

"You need to go shopping," Timmy informed Gibbs. "But the soup serves two per can, so we can do this."

"Do what?" Gibbs asked suspiciously.

There was a knock at the door and Timmy turned towards it. "I'll get it!" he called, oblivious to Gibbs' glare.

Gibbs didn't try to get up from the couch again for a minute as Timmy was talking to someone outside the door in a hushed voice, but he did stand when he saw Ducky, Abby, and Jimmy. "Hey, no! No, no, no, I am not getting all of you sick!"

"Well, I imagine not," Ducky chuckled. "Because the stomach flu that has been going around has either made everyone here sick beforehand, or they will be staying away from you." The last half of that sentence was said with a pointed look at Abby, who just smiled innocently.

Gibbs was about to protest but Timmy pushed him down onto the couch again none-too-gently. "You gotta rest and let us take care of things," he said firmly. "Or else if Ziva shows up I'll sic her on you."

"She'll love that word choice," Gibbs growled.

"I told her I'd use it earlier," Timmy shrugged off. "She just laughed."

"Really, Jethro, you must rest," Ducky said. "We are all here to help you get better. Abigail can keep the younger ones occupied while I make dinner, and we extended an invitation to Ziva in case we need an extra set of hands, there is nothing for you to do!"

Gibbs glowered at Ducky.

Ducky sighed. "Though I suspect that is where some of this aggravation comes from. Tony!"

Tony ran into the room, holding out a can of soup. "There's four of these," Tony informed him. "Enough for dinner."

"Thank you, dear boy," Ducky said, taking it. "Now, could you do the other half of your job?"

Tony's eyes lit up and he nodded, before rushing over to Gibbs and perching on his lap. Gibbs covered the coughing that came from being jostled. "Tony...what are you doing?"

"Making sure Papa doesn't move!" Tony said like it was obvious. "That's my job! Can Papa read me a story? Please?"

"Kiddo, I have to make dinner," Gibbs said.

Tony crossed his arms and scowled, before a thought apparently struck him and he put his wrist up to Gibbs' head. Gibbs hissed at the coolness of Tony's skin. "Uncle Ducky!" Tony called into the kitchen. "Papa's forehead feels hot! Like, _really_  hot!"

Jimmy looked over for the first time in this whole debacle. "Has he taken any medicine yet?" he asked.

"I dunno," Tony replied. "Papa, have you taken any medicine?"

"I got home, threw up, and fell asleep," Gibbs supplied. "Doesn't leave a lot of time to grab the Advil."

Tony frowned. "Papa should take something. His forehead is really hot."

Ducky walked out of the kitchen and felt Gibbs' forehead for himself. "Hm...while your temperature is undeniably elevated, Jethro, it appears you're still lucid. I wouldn't worry much until you're experiencing great confusion or your temperature continues to rise, especially over one-hundred and three degrees. However, considering you have not taken any medication today to deal with that fever, I wouldn't worry about it being at the temperature it is now. I _would_ recommend taking a fever reducer to see if that alleviates any of your symptoms."

"Well, as per your orders, I have a child on my lap and I don't feel like I could lift him off of me, let alone carry him while I get the Advil," Gibbs sighed.

Ducky turned towards Timmy and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Timmy was tearing through the house. "I know where it is! Be right back!"

"Slowly, dear boy!" Ducky called, shaking his head.

Timmy at least slowed to a jog as he came back into the room, fiddling with the cap before having it fly off. "Oops," he said distractedly, pouring out two pills and passing them to Gibbs. "Papa's medicine."

Gibbs sent a look at Timmy, but took the pills and swallowed them dry. "I hope you realize the second I'm better you're gonna be in trouble for that 'swaying like a drunk' comment."

Timmy shrugged innocently and smiled, walking off to go play something or another.

The front door opened and Ziva walked in, looking around. "Ziva!" Ducky exclaimed. "Could you keep an eye on Gibbs, or at least keep Tony occupied while I make the soup for tonight?"

Ziva nodded once silently, and Ducky smiled, giving her shoulder a thankful squeeze before moving back to the kitchen. Ziva turned to the couch and sat down next to Gibbs, immediately holding up her hands for Tony to high-five. When he did, Gibbs sighed and turned to her. "You get sick too?"

"Not as far as I know," Ziva said. "I had some indigestion the night of that dinner, but nothing else. You were the only one to get this sick."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and immediately regretted it when the action made him feel nauseous. "Great," he muttered, closing his eyes.

Tony stopped hitting his hands against Ziva's and frowned. "Papa need a trash can?"

"I can probably find some Pepto-Bismol," Jimmy offered.

"Papa usually gets sicker if he tries any antacids or stuff, something about the taste," Timmy responded. "I'll get the wastebasket from the bathroom."

When Gibbs opened his eyes again, Timmy was setting a wastebasket next to him, Tony had started hugging him lightly, Ziva was soothing a distressed Abby and Jimmy was observing Gibbs closely to look for any signs of illness. Gibbs, despite feeling awful, felt a little bit of relief at the fact that now, there were people who cared how he felt and wanted him to be better.

Ducky cleared his throat from the entrance to the dining room. "The soup has started to steam, I believe dinner is ready."

Ziva looked between Gibbs and Ducky. "Are we going to be able to eat in the dining room? I am concerned Gibbs might trip over a sheet if he tries to stand."

"Over _his feet_ ," Tony corrected immediately.

Ducky looked to Gibbs. "He does appear to not have improved his condition, but it has only been about five minutes since he has taken anything. We can always help him to the table."

"Ah, just let 'em eat in here, Duck, I don't mind tonight," Gibbs said.

"If you're sure, Jethro," Ducky said uncertainly.

"Duck, I'm stuck underneath a six foot one toddler who doesn't look like he wants to move anytime soon, and a six foot one five-year-old is gonna just escort me right back here when dinner is done if we move. We've got a five foot ten eight year old who can help the six foot even toddler eat neatly, or at least get a towel underneath him while you're serving up the bowls. To round it all off, we have a five foot six ex-assassin who can easily take care of anyone who even thinks about misbehaving or purposefully making a mess. There's no way any of this could be easier than if we just stay in here."

"You find the height differences between our children and others' children amusing, don't you?" Ducky asked with a chuckle.

"Only when I'm halfway lucid," Gibbs replied.

Ducky turned back to the kitchen, saying, "I'll serve up the bowls." Gibbs didn't miss the chuckle he tried to cover up afterward.

Abby stood up and volunteered, "I can set out a blanket so it's like a picnic and it's less messy!"

She left the room and Gibbs tapped Tony on the arm. "Kiddo, could you get off me?" he asked.

"Mm...no," Tony said.

"Why not?" Gibbs asked, impatience slipping through the cracks of his mask.

"Because the towel isn't on the floor so we can't force Papa to sit down for dinner, and Papa'll just want to help Uncle Ducky."

"Actually, I need to pee," Gibbs corrected.

"Oh!" Tony exclaimed, climbing off Gibbs' lap immediately. "Go ahead. Try not to pass out."

"Cross my heart," Gibbs responded dryly, immediately heading to the bathroom. He headed upstairs to make sure Abby found what she was looking for and passed her in the hallway as she lugged a beach blanket behind her. She did a double-take when she saw him up and he raised his hands in surrender. "Have to use the head."

"Okay..." she said skeptically. "Just don't take too long."

"I'll try not to," he laughed.

He went into the bathroom and did his business quickly, and found he felt a bit better than when he had gotten home. Maybe it was the meds, but he liked to think that it was his family being there and making the effort to help him, however misguided the attempt was.

When he got back downstairs, the beach blanket was in the center of the living room, and everyone was sitting on it with bowls of soup already. He took the only open spot in the little circle they had formed, and picked up his bowl of soup, balancing it in his lap. He looked around at everyone, watching him closely, and he smiled. "Thank you," he eventually settled on saying. "I'll try not to get you all sick. Even if I can't have a lot of tonight's dinner, it means a lot that you would care enough to make it."

Timmy piped up from across the circle. "So does that mean that I'm not in trouble any more for the 'swaying like a drunk' comment?"

Gibbs laughed. "Oh, you wish you could get away with that! No, you're still in trouble."

Ducky chuckled. "I say we eat first, talk later. Give a little more time for Jethro's medicine to kick in. Then we can discuss what else we might be doing soon."

"I second that!" Jimmy exclaimed, promptly diving into his soup.

Gibbs watched as everyone else joined him and made small talk across the blanket. This was a nice night, considering he was sick as a dog. He liked this. The whole family, all in one place, talking and laughing and being together. He wouldn't trade it for the world.


End file.
